Harry Potter and the Cursed Professor
by Flyingtail
Summary: For the first time in centuries, Hogwarts has a new class available for students. Everyone's anxious, and no one's sure what to expect—but they sure didn't expect a math class.


It had been exactly two hundred thirty one years, seven months, and two days since Hogwarts had last opened a new course. Clubs came and went, teams rose and fall, but for nearly as long as the school had been open, the selection of the classes stood unchanged.

Nobody seemed certain what to make of the new class. The truth was, no one was really sure what it was even about. Older students teased the first years, convincing them they'd have to wrestle trolls. Younger students spread rumors, nonsense about dragon riding, or illegal spells and potions.

Needless to say, curiosity was at an all time high when the first class finally rolled around. The first class was combined, the third years from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. As the students filed into their desks, whispers shook through the class room as everyone pulled out their wands. They'd been given no books, no list of supplies. They'd only been told to come to the classroom in the west wing with their quills and parchment.

The students grew quiet as the door at the front of the room swung open. Out stepped a woman with dark coppery skin, her hair pale and long as it hung down the back of her jade robes. She strode across the room, tucking her wand behind her ear. Picking up a piece of chalk, she began to write on the chalkboard.

"Good afternoon, children," she said in a soft cool voice, setting down the chalk. She motioned to the name she had written. "My name is Hypatia Bathory. I'll be your professor in this class." Striding over to her desk, she paused, leaning on it. "Wands away, please."

Hesitant, with more than a little muttering, the students returned their wands to their bags, wondering what they could be learning without them. "Troll wrestling," one student whispered, the color draining from their face.

Professor Bathory straightened, returning to her blackboard. "After some discussion over the summer, the headmaster agreed to let me test run this course over the year to see whether it fits with the curriculum." Taking her wand down, she flicked it lightly at the blackboard. It twisted on it's swivel, revealing the other side, on which a series of strange equations and letters were written, surrounding a large name in the board's center.

"Arithmetic? Like, math?" a student said from the back of the room. "We already learned all that!"

Professor Bathory tucked her wand back in her ear, and small smile slipping onto her features. "When you speak in my class, please stand so I can see you. Now, what is your name?"

A short girl who practically disappeared in her frizzy red hair stood at the back of the room, raising her hand. "Helen Lovelace, Professor. Hufflepuff."

Pausing, Professor Bathory nodded, her small smile turning into a playful grin. "Hufflepuffs are infamous for the finding ability, aren't they? Miss Lovelace, can you find the cube root of one–hundred and twenty five times three over seven?" She asked. As she spoke, she picked up an eraser, wiping the board clean as she wrote the new equation.

There was a long pause, and finally, Helen sat down quietly. "Well?" Professor Bathory asked. "Can anyone? I don't imagine you're familiar with three dimensional geometric equations? No? How about rates and relationships of proportionality? I didn't think so. Before attending Hogwarts, your education wasn't made of magic, but numbers and equations. It's my belief you were removed from such lessons to soon." Waving her wand, she summoned a stack of books from one of the many book cases, sliding one onto each student's desk. "We'll start fairly basic, and return to the order of operations. Unless there's anyone who think's they don't need this class?"

A young Ravenclaw girl stood, her nose held up as she raised her hand. Without waiting to be called on, she spoke. "Adrianna Crow, Ravenclaw. I was wondering when it is we'll ever actually use this? It's not like I'm a filthy muggle," she said smugly. "I, at least, have magic."

After a moment, Professor Bathory put a finger to her lips, as if considering the question seriously. "That is a fair question. When will you use these things?" Taking her wand, she toyed with it quietly, seeming lost deep in thought. Finally, she nodded, raising both eyebrows. "Ah, yes, I remember. You'll be using it now." Waving her wand, her lips moved almost silently.

Suddenly, Adrianna Crow shot into the air, her hair knotting itself into the room's simple chandelier. The students gasped, leaning out of their chairs to see.

"Please recite the quadratic formula," Professor Bathory said in a pleasant voice, tucking her hands behind her back.

"L–Let me down!" the girl screeched, kicking angrily as she reached up, trying to pull her hair loose.

"The quadratic formula, Miss Crow."

Adrianna Crow barreled her hands into fists. "A–Accio wand! Accio, you stupid wand!" she let out a scream of anger, kicking at the air wildly. "Wait until my mother here's about this!"

Still smiling pleasantly, Professor Bathory turned her attention back to the class. "Does anyone else know the answer? Miss Lovelace, can we hear from you?"

Face turning sheet white, the girl cautiously stood. She swallowed, glancing around to see all eyes on her. "I think it was, er, x equals negative b, plus or minus the square root of b squares minus 4ac over 2. Right?"

"I'm sorry Miss Lovelace, it's over 2a," corrected Professor Bathory. Helen Lovelace flinched as the Professor flicked her wand.

Instead of soaring up to the chandelier, a burst of green and blue sparks glittered over her desk, and a small square of chocolate appeared, the light glinting off it's lovely golden wrapper.

Flicking her wand again, the professor returned the fuming and flushed Adrianna Crow to her desk, cleared the chalk board, and began to write. "Thank you for contributing to the class. Now, get out your notes. Can anyone tell me what the order of operations is?"

"Am I in trouble?" Helen asked hesitantly, sitting down in the small leather chair opposite the professor's desk. It was surprisingly soft, smelling of cinnamon with the barest hint of roses.

Professor Bathory did not answer right away. She drew the curtains across a mirror Helen couldn't quite see, glancing to the window. "No, not really," she finally said, taking her own seat. "I've asked to meet one and one with each of my students. It should take the better part of the year, but I believe it'll help me improve my teaching." She picked up a tall bottle, pouring it into a narrow flask. The liquid inside was a thick beautiful red, colorful and sweet smelling. Taking a moment, she removed a vial from her desk. Popping the lid, she grimaced, and as did Helen. The smell wafting out was incredibly strong, an acidic mix of salt and garlic.

"You'll have to excuse the smell," the professor apologized, letting a few drops fall into her flask with a look of disgust. "I get bloated and ruddy if I don't take my medicine daily, but the stench is terrible." Taking a hard swig, she relaxed slightly, leaning forward. "Now, what are your thoughts on my class?"

"I guess I'm confused, and frustrated, and, well, a little bit scared," Helen admitted cautiously, playing with the hem of her robe. "I was never that great at math before I came to Hogwarts, and that hasn't really changed. I'm an okay student, but I'm a Hufflepuff. I'm... not great at this kind of thing. Why are we even doing it?"

Professor Bathory took another drought off her flask, drumming her fingers. She sat silently for a long stretch. Suddenly, she spoke very abruptly. "That concludes our meeting. You'll meet with me here ever Saturday after lunch for private tutoring." Without so much as another word, she took her attention off Helen entirely and began organizing her papers.

Helen sat in stunned silence. Swallowing hard, she spoke. "I have Quidditch practice—it's my first year, I only just made it on as a Beater—I can't miss it, if I do, I—"

"Saturday after lunch," the professor repeated, signing a grade on one of the worksheets. "Now, I have another student coming in five minutes. Goodbye, Miss Lovelace."


End file.
